


Office magic

by missippi_twists



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Minor Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 18:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3620508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missippi_twists/pseuds/missippi_twists
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The unexpected events surrounding Bilbo Baggins' internship at a certain renowned company in the city of Erebor; A child with a penchant for running away, a particularly handsome superior, a single mother with a wickedly dark sense of humor and a fellow intern that has a knack for pulling Bilbo into twisty situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Office magic

“Well, this is it,” the man across him mused, looking at his wrist watch for the last time.

Bilbo made a weird noise between a strangled eep and a grunt of agreement as he hastily wiped his fingers on a napkin, tidying up his side of the table to avoid his mentor’s steady gaze on him.

“My dear Bilbo,” the older noirette began, a hint of amusement in his voice as he watched a blush creep up his student’s cheeks.

“You’ve worked hard for this, and I’ve always believed you were meant for great things. Have faith in yourself, just as I, in you.”

Bilbo finally looked up at Elrond, taking in the sight of his gentle smile which traveled up to his eyes, oh those eyes. It made something stir inside Bilbo, something alongst the lines of the time he upped and left his home in Hobbiton, acceptance letter to the University of Rivendell clutched in his tiny, soil streaked hands.

As they stood in front of the coffee shop, about to part ways, a doubtful “professor?” tumbled out of Bilbo’s lips. Elrond quipped an eyebrow, his easy smile still lingering.

Bilbo frowned, trying to string his jumbled thoughts together so that he wouldn’t stammer a mess of incoherent words.

“I couldn’t have gone this far without you. So thank you, professor. I owe you my thanks and deepest gratitude.”

Elrond responded with a light chuckle, patting Bilbo’s shoulder and giving in a light squeeze. ”You can thank me again, when all of this is over. Now, off you go, we don’t want you to be late on your first day, do we?”

And for the first time since breakfast, Bilbo found it in himself to flash a genuine smile, the knots inside his gut starting to undo themselves.

 And with that they went in opposite directions, one walking with a purposeful stride, another barely crashing into strangers, his feet driving on autopilot as his mind roared with a mess of thoughts and what ifs but the voice of his mother told him _‘the best is yet to come.’_

_-_

Bilbo worried at a stray thread that had come undone from his cardigan, oh he was a fine looking man this morning, he thought to himself as he looked down to his well-worn oxfords (not brogues, mind you).

He clicked his heels together once, twice, and then decided to cross legs because as much he wanted to be magically transported to his home in Bagshot avenue, his heart would stubbornly refuse to budge, even if it meant that it would be confined to the communal train running alongst the North-East line for eternity, or until Bilbo would so kindly retrieve his missing organ back and stayed at his tiny Ereborean apartment until it fluttered its final beat.

Also, he knew he was no Dorothy Gale.

The train made its stop and Bilbo mindlessly watched the commuters alighting and boarding; he still had some five stops to go. His eyes seemed transfixed on a particular commuter, an aged older man dressed in a peculiar style of a loose grey shirt tucked into a pair of sweats of the same shade, hairs all but grey and tied up in a loose pony tail with a full beard to boot. Bilbo thinks he couldn’t be a day younger than seventy, but the smile lines and polite nods he gave towards strangers who parted as he made his way towards Bilbo’s side of the cabin made him second guess himself. Bilbo hadn’t realized the empty seat beside him until the said man plonked down next to him with a satisfied sigh, bringing his heavy looking bag to his lap. The older man caught Bilbo’s gaze and gave an earnest smile, which made Bilbo blush slightly and shift his eyes to somewhere else. Small talk wasn’t exactly our mister Baggins’ forte, no but he does have a few redeeming qualities asides being a socially awkward young adult.

“Good morning,” the man rumbled his voice a rich baritone.

That caught our young man’s attention. He turned towards the stranger but not without craning his neck in the opposite direction, only to realize that he was sitting with no one next to his left, brows furrowed.

“Good morning to you too,” Bilbo replied politely but somewhat confused.

“Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?”

“All of them at once?” Bilbo provided helpfully, with which the man burst out laughing, a hearty, pleasant ringing in Bilbo’s ears and he couldn’t help but smile at the contagious mirth despite the polite stares he was receiving.

“Do pardon my teasing, I am Gandalf Grey, pleased to meet you,” offering a long slim hand.

“Bilbo Baggins, and the pleasure is mine,” Bilbo gave Gandalf’s hand a firm shake.

“So, Mr Baggins, don’t mind me asking, but where are you off too this morning?”

“Please, Bilbo would do. I’m off to start my internship at a Regal Durin’s Corp.”

Gandalf gave a nod at the mention of that name; somewhat giving his approval of Bilbo’s stroke of good fortune to even land an internship at such an esteemed company.

“Well, bit of advice for you, Bilbo, if you would kindly take it. Always be prepared for the unexpected,” Gandalf mused, giving Bilbo a wink.

Overhead the PA system announced that Bilbo was reaching his stop soon, and he thanked Gandalf hastily as he hurried along quickly past the throng of people on their way to work.

This was the city of Erebor, where things happen fast and the people, faster still. Though Bilbo was a good head shorter than the locals, overtime he had gotten used to the pace of rush hour and where he couldn’t compensate for vertically, he did so by being a very brisk walker with a good knack for weaving in and out of crowds for he was very light on his feet.

It was then, that Gandalf’s voice which carried over the bustle of jumbled chatter that made Bilbo stop completely in his tracks, much to the disdain of rushing salary men.

“Goodness, Mister Bilbo, I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while now. Durin’s Corp is this way, take the first left just after the street, it’s a shorter route less taken, and much faster, if you want to leave a good first impression.”

Gandalf turned as quickly as he had come and Bilbo all but jogged, trying to keep up with the lanky man’s impossibly long strides.

“How do you-“

“Know this de tour? Why, I do believe we’re going in the same direction!” Gandalf announced quite triumphantly, waving a hand at the building right before his eyes and for the second time that morning, Bilbo’s tracks came to a complete halt.

To say it was magnificent would be a complete understatement but it was the only word that Bilbo could come up as he drank in the sight of the building he would be working in for the next 6 months. He has seen pictures, yes, but none could compare to the reality he’s faced; eyes swimming at the sight of countless of glass windows speckling the 5 storey red brick and mortar building (It even has a clock tower fashioned from the central building, for crying out loud!)

Everything screamed rich Ereborean history as Bilbo’s feet carried him closer to the headquarters very befitting of its title; from the rustic structure of the building true to its early 1900s architecture influence, to the red brick paved driveway, well-manicured hedges fringing the outside of the building, to the common species of trees dotting the car parks just behind the main building. Bilbo caught a glimpse of a few black, well-polished sedans and swallowed, throat suddenly constricting. _Well it’s definitely not like the pictures_ , he told himself dryly. He could hear Gandalf’s surprisingly softer chuckle beside him as the two climbed the stairs to the main lobby.

“Well, I guess this is where we say goodbye, for today, I hope. Try not to get lost, oh and best of luck!” Gandalf added as an afterthought, a few strides after.

And with that, Bilbo was left alone in the middle of a lobby. He whipped his head around, trying to read the old Khuzdul signs that indicate which are the East and West wings, and which lifts would take him to every level of the building, and which would skip some levels, very much like the old lifts which were in operation a good 50 years back. Time was definitely catching up here which was essentially good news for Bilbo hates stairs.

 

He checked his phone one last time, that indeed he was to report to a particular Mrs Durin at the sixth floor of the West wing. Bilbo slid his phone into his bag, preparing himself for a more professional side (no cellphones!) as he strode to the elevator that would take him to his destination.

“Wait just a moment please!” A voice cried out just as the elevator doors were closing. Bilbo’s quick reflexes saved a poor lad from being squished in between steel doors as he rushed in, face flushed and slightly out of breath. The bespectacled guy in question seemed not much older than Bilbo himself as he turned towards him, fixing his glasses and shooting Bilbo a polite ‘thank you’ as he adjusted his clothes.

“Which level?” Bilbo asked.

“The sixth, oh I see you’re going there too. What a nice coincidence.”

Whatever reply that Bilbo wanted to say fell short as the elevator dinged and its doors slid opened with a silent _whoosh._

“After you,” Bilbo said politely.

The two stepped out into a very modernly designed office, neutral colors heavily influenced the color palette of the space, white walls spanning to the far side of the room with some overhanging black lights placed at regular intervals providing extra light to the room. Bilbo was quite fascinated with the well-furbished office, only having seen more Spartan and dull grey walls of office spaces back in Hobbiton.

There was a heavy looking black table and a lady swiveled from the chair when the two approached. She stood up and greeted them, her slicked copper ponytail as bright as her smile.

“You must be the two new interns,” the lady greeted, directing a knowing nod towards the fellow next to Bilbo, who only scratched his temple sheepishly in reply. A light chuckle ran as she led the two to Dis’ office, knocking on the door a couple of times before opening it.

 

“Dis, the interns are here.”

  
“Oh,” the noirette snapped her head towards them, shoulder propping her phone to her ear as she held a finger up in a ‘one moment, please’ gesture. She ended her call with a “mommy has to go now, love you sweetie,” before directing her attention towards the trio.

 

“Thank you, Ingrid. The two of you, please make yourselves comfortable, there’s some indemnity forms for you to sign, company policies and other documents.”

Dis handed them thick black files and they thumbed through its contents diligently. Bilbo’s neutral expression quickly turned into a frown as he reached the fourteenth page.

“I’m sorry, but what ‘grievous injuries’ can one get whilst working in a safe environment?”

Dis took a sip of coffee, arching an eyebrow at Bilbo’s direction. Beside him, came a soft, almost imperceptible groan as the fellow slunk an inch lower into his seat.

“It doesn’t happen often but let me give you a ‘for instance’,” Dis drawled with a cool tone, punctuating her words with fingers drawn into quotation signs.

“Say we have some office party, and you interns, no offence, get a little too much alcohol in your system and think it a good idea to scan your bare arses on our Xerox printers. You think it’s a good joke but joke’s on you when the glass cracks because it’s not manufactured to have grown men sitting on them and when you have an unfortunate case of extensive lacerations, the company will highly likely not be responsible when you have to empty your fecal matter out from a stoma bag that protrudes out of your lower abdomen.”

Bilbo swallowed and gave a dumb nod, resuming back to his reading.

A knock was heard and Dis nonchalantly told the person to come in.

“Mr Hadlow is here to see you,” Ingrid’s light voice filled the room, like the being of heavens above that she was, stunning facial features, bold printed dress clinging to her slight but curvaceous body. Whatever frustrations Dis was having that morning seemed to wash away at the sight of her assistant, her slight scowl quickly turning into a smile as she stood up to leave her office.

“Excuse me lads, and don’t be up to any mischief when I’m gone,” she winked at Bilbo before averting her gaze at the Xerox printer sitting at the corner of the room.

 

“I’m Ori,” the brunette introduced himself.

“Oh, I’m Bilbo, didn’t get to introduce myself on the elevator just now.”

“No biggie there, how long are you interning for?”

“Six months, say have I met you before, you look awfully familiar.”

“Hmm, now that you mention it, you do. But I don’t think you’d be from school though, I’m from the National University of Erebor.”

“I’m from Rivendell,”

Ori turned from his file to stare at Bilbo with huge brown eyes, pupils blown nearly twice the size in disbelief.

“Because that incident that Aunt Dis told you about? It actually happened five years back, and they stopped taking interns, I’m only here because it’s part of the family business but _wow_ , you really must be something to be here.”

Now it was Bilbo to drop his pen and mirror Ori’s earlier expression, his chest giving a painful squeeze at the weight of the information he just heard.

 

-

 

Thorin had barely set foot into the building and he was already bombarded with a flurry of good mornings and a blur of hands passing him reports and proposals that had to be looked into as soon as possible. But that didn’t stop him from greeting his colleagues with a warm smile and exchange pleasantries with them, all the while leafing through pages of crisp white paper _and_ climbing the stairs.

He walked into his office with nary an accident, actually thanks to his secretary, Dwalin, for helping him to open the doors necessary before he could walk into them.

Thorin set the stack of files neatly on his office table, unbuttoned his blue suit jacket before settling down on his office chair.

Dwalin quickly set a fresh mug of coffee (2 sugars, lots of cream) at the corner, far from any important documents and excused himself, though not before Thorin thanking him graciously for his assistance again.

Such was the bustle of Thorin’s mornings, he would either start the day approving, amending or dismissing proposals or have meetings with the rest of the board members every Tuesday.

The noirette reached out for his beverage and let his eyes idly scan the filled workstations for a moment, a small indulgence Thorin gave himself before diving head first into his work. Usually, his cornflower blue eyes would just do a quick sweep but not today. Today his attention was caught on his sister, distant cousin and a stranger with a mop of honey brown curls and an endearing style of button ups and knitted cardigans.

He briefly wonders who they could be but was disrupted by a knock on the door, the pleasant old face of his marketing manager, Balin coming into view.

 

“Those are the interns, in case you forgot,” Balin gently reminded, circling a certain paragraph in red ink and jotting a quick note beside it.

Thorin _hmmed_ as he took a sip from his coffee, the gears in his mind clicking.

“Now turn your focus back into this room, Mr Durin, I need you to go through this statement again.”

Thorin gave Balin an amused look, cocking an eyebrow as he took the file from his older colleague.

“I am paying good attention to you, dear Balin, sir. I think lowering the budget for this project would seem like a wise decision, it didn’t do so well on market surveys the last time round.”

“I can _feel_ your eyes wondering to the interns behind me young laddie, you can’t fool an old man. Duly noted, and what about the marketing proposal done by Nori?”

“Just call it harmless curiosity. They _loved_ it, give him a clap on the back for us will you, we finally got Eowyn to sign that partnership with Bombur and he’s over the moon! Says something about inviting us over for lunch someday.”

Balin huffs out a laugh and tucked his file under his arm, about done with his queries with Thorin.

“Knowing that bloke, he’ll probably have us staying for dinner and then some! Well I’m off now.”

Just before Balin closed the door behind him, he leaned against the door, the corners of his lips curling into a smile.

“And he’s called Bilbo Baggins, by the way.” and closed the door behind him with a faint click.

And with that, Thorin is left wondering why he blushed at the mere mention of an intern’s name, even before meeting this stranger he might so helpfully add.

 

-

 

Bilbo unceremoniously interrupted Dis’ introduction to the marketing dynamics of the company with an unexpected sneeze.

“Terribly sorry, I wonder what came over me,” he quickly apologized, digging into his satchel for a pocket square and blowing his nose into it.

Dis had led them to the front of the general manager’s office, greeting a colleague of hers with hair as white as the walls before continuing her briefing.

“That’s Balin, senior marketing manager,” Ori whispered into Bilbo’s ear like it was a conspirational secret. Bilbo’s gaze lingered on the elder man for a while longer, watching him walk away from the room and disappearing round the corner.

Before Dis could continue, her phone rang and judging by how quickly she picked up the call, it must have been of some importance.

Bilbo’s eyes then wandered to the man sitting behind the glass wall, making a quick observation of how long his lashes looked as he poured through documents, pen clutched in hand furiously signing his approval.

_And oh, how well does the blue of his suit bring out the color of his eyes_ , Bilbo thought shamelessly as the mentioned men looked up to meet Bilbo’s own hazel eyes. He couldn’t take his eyes off that ridiculously good looking man with his short cropped hair and neatly trimmed beard, until, Dis’ exclamation of ‘sandwich thief?!’ snapped Bilbo out of his blatant staring.

He blinked once, twice, a fierce blush spreading to the tips of his ears as he found a sudden interest on the grey carpeted floors. Bilbo was sure his family had no history of cardiac diseases of sorts, but already he felt that he should get the hammering in his chest checked out should it prolong itself for a longer period of time.

 

Lunch was spent trying to uphold his end of the conversation with Ori, his mind often drifting to a certain Mr Durin sitting in his office like a bloody model posing for an editorial shoot were Bilbo to pull his phone out and snap a quick photo.

“Why if it isn’t Bilbo!” a voice rang out from the other side of the cafeteria. Bilbo instinctively snapped his head up and tried to pin point whose voice it was. It didn’t take him long to spot Gandalf, a good head taller than most of the people around, strolling towards their table, food and drink in hand.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he politely asked, pulling a chair to sit beside Bilbo.

“Nice of you to join us,” Ori bubbled like an excited kid, sliding his chair closer to Gandalf.

“You two know each other?”

“Oh, we _know_ each other,” Gandalf practically purred, winking and giving a coy smile that nearly made Bilbo choke on his drink.

“I almost forgot! Bilbo, will you be free tonight?” Ori asked with a sparkle to his expressive brown eyes.

“Tonight? Why I should be, what’s the occasion?”

“Join us for a drink! It’s like some sort of unofficial welcome tea reception, only with more booze and you’ll get to meet more of our staff there.”

Bilbo frowned at the idea of overzealous adults trying to force more drinks into his system and imagine the terror of being hung over the next day, or worse, sick!

He was about to refuse them when Gandalf interjected.

“Come on, it’s a bit of a harmless get together, it’s down at the Prancing Pony, lovely bar, co-owned by Bombur, so we get discounts!”

Bilbo chewed on the thought of it for a while more, audibly _hmm_ ing as he did. He honestly wasn’t too keen, him being a light weight and all.

“I’ll buy you dinner, what say you, dear Bilbo?”

“I heard Thorin might be there,” Ori chimed in, exchanging sly looks with Gandalf as he did.

 

“No,” Bilbo flat out replied for the umpteenth time before Ori had a chance to speak.

“I wasn’t going to ask you out again, Bilbo.”

“We are pissing, Ori, or were you going to ask if I’m circumcised or not?”

Ori seemed to give it a thought as he zipped his fly.

“Why, yes I was,”

“Had a little accident whilst I was younger, had to go for surgery to remove it, I don’t know why I’m sharing this with you but my mom was a nurse who had already wanted me to be circumcised, with or without that incident.”

A colleague passed the two of them a weird look and Bilbo brushed it off by washing his hands.

“Now back to the serious question, will you _please_ come with us tonight? You don’t have to stay for long, just a couple of hours will do!” Ori nearly begged, shooting Bilbo his best puppy eyes.

Bilbo, of course, was a contender at this prospect and wasn’t affected by the slightest.

“Will you _please_ stop asking me to go? I thought I’ve explained myself quite extensively  that alcohol and I just won’t have the kind of relationship most of you want us to have,” Bilbo shot back in a whiny voice, coupled with the best pout he could muster.

Ori straightened up from the corner of the sink he was leaning on and sniffed, mocking offense.

“Very well then, you’re putting me in a hard spot for having to break the bad news to Gandalf but it’s fine with me, after all, we only just met today and I understand perfectly fine that you don’t want to spend time with _colleagues_ you’ve known for less than a day, good afternoon, Mister Baggins.” Ori stormed out of the restroom, his nose upturned into the air, leaving Bilbo shaking his head and snorting back a laugh or two.

 

“What did I tell you darling Ori, I told you he’d come,” Gandalf announced merrily at the sight of Bilbo, his arms reaching out to pull the two youngsters close as he brought them inside the bar, which was relatively empty at seven in the evening.

“Thank the heavens for my tall, handsome Gandalf, what would I have done to budge this mule of a man,” Ori cooed, settling down on the inner seats of the booth table they were assigned to. Bilbo merely rolled his eyes at Ori’s comments, scooting into the opposite seat with Gandalf sitting next to Ori.

The Prancing Pony was a hybrid of a diner and bar located at a cul de sac of Esgaroth Square, a short walk away from Erebor’s business district, which meant that it had fewer bustles than the city rush but still enough crowds to sustain its business quite wonderfully. Its constantly improved menu consisting of traditional Ereborean fare with a modern twist was an instant hit with its patrons and it quickly climbed to the top of many food critics’ ‘must visit’ places. Co-owned by Bombur, who was also the operational manager of the cafeteria running in Durin’s corp, it was an ideal and popular choice for its employees (and employers) to gather at the bar for special occasions, such as welcoming their interns aboard the ship, like tonight.  

Their table was soon patronized by colleagues, Gandalf’s mostly and introductions were made. Bilbo made a mental note to remember everyone’s faces and especially the names of people he would most likely be working with for the next few months. It seemed that having two interns after an absence of five years called for a pretty big gathering, with the Pony swarmed with familiar people shortly during dinner time. Bilbo chose the time when Gandalf left the two to get some drinks to check his phone.

A message bubble had popped up from his screen and Bilbo unlocked his smart phone to read it.

_‘Enjoying your first day?’_

Read the message from none other than Elrond. Bilbo couldn’t resist smiling to himself as he quickly typed a reply.

_‘Couldn’t have asked for more, thank you, prof. Details next time, hanging out with the other intern.’_

Just as he clicked the send button, a huge commotion surrounded the bar. Bilbo looked up to see what the ruckus was all about but was blocked by Gandalf as he returned, expertly maneuvering crowds with three glasses in his hands.

“What’s all the noise about?” Bilbo casually asked, sipping on his gin and tonic.

“Nothing, just everyone excited to see Thorin here. They’re attracted to him like bees to honey.” Gandalf grinned contentedly, knocking back his rum and coke. Beside him, Ori was giggling to his own drink and was rewarded with a kick under the table, courtesy of Mister Baggins.

The alcohol warmed his belly up and a nice flush was starting to color his cheeks a bright red, much like a cooked lobster, one might add if they had observed Bilbo for some time. He took his time sipping his solitary glass, nothing compared to the amounts Ori and Gandalf were downing, like it was nothing but water to them.

 

“If it isn’t Gandalf and his pet!” A man exclaimed at the head of their table. Bilbo eyed the stranger in a slight haze, his Ereborean accent piquing an interest in the brunette.

Gandalf stood and enveloped the stranger in a warm hug, both Bilbo and Ori just sitting and smiling at the man.

“This, Bilbo, is Bofur, he works at HR.”

In response, Bofur tipped his imaginary hat in a corkscrew motion and gave a slight bow.

“Bofur, at your service,” he flashed an easy grin that showed his dimples and pronounced the lines around his eyes more.

“Shall we have some shots?” Ori suggested. Bofur raised his hand at that and Gandalf turned towards Bilbo, cocking his head to the side. Bilbo was about to reject the offer when Bofur sidled in and gave the slouch a firm pat on the back, effectively straightening him up.

“You look like a plant about to wither; I say we give him a couple!” Bofur offered, his voice a boisterous tone as he laughed at Bilbo’s look of sheer terror.

“I can’t, I’m a light weight at this and –“

“Well as they always say, in Rome, do as the Romans do and in Erebor, we drink!” Bofur punctuated his sentence by swiping Gandalf’s glass and clinking it with Ori’s and they both downed the contents in a single gulp.

Gandalf returned with the shot glasses rimmed with salt and slices of lemon wedged to it.

“Cheers to you laddie, on your first day of interning with us,”

_Oh well, go big or go home Bilbo_ , he told himself, squeezing his eyes shut and tipping his head back.

Another shot and a couple of sips later, Bilbo had to excuse himself, Ori tagging along just in case Bilbo’s legs decide to collapse beneath him on the way. For a guy who hasn’t drunk outside the comfort of his own house, Bilbo was faring quite well in walking straight to the restrooms without knocking into people or walls.

Bilbo just barely locked the door behind him when the rush of bile went up his throat. He turned quickly to the toilet and heaved, once, twice but nothing but spit left his mouth.

He sighed raggedly, still leaning over when his dinner made reappearance all at once.

It was unglamorous, after he recovered from his first bout and wiping drool from the corner of his lips with his brand new sweater, but Bilbo was a little too dizzy to be worrying about new clothes. He quickly flushed his contents, praying that it wouldn’t clog the pipes.

Outside, Ori gave a knock. “You alright there Bilbo?” came his concerned slur of a question.

“Yea, just give me a –“he cut his sentence short as he felt the second bout of nausea hitting him.

Bilbo felt like the time he cranked his dad’s garden hose to the max only this time, the upper end of his digestive tract was doing the spewing and Bilbo knew he was no hose, silly boy. 

Bilbo’s unlocked his cubicle and swung it towards him unceremoniously, nearly slamming his face in the process.

He went to the sink to rinse his mouth and splash his face, the cool water providing some form of relief as his stomach rumbled again.

“Sorry Ori, think I’m calling it a day now. Tell Bombur I’m sorry if I clogged his pipes.”

Ori rubbed smoothing circles along Bilbo’s back.

“Well it’d be good if there was someone to escort you back, where do you live?”

“The apartments up at Dale.”

Ori gave a low whistle.

“Gandalf and I live in the opposite direction, why not we go outside and ask around, can you walk?”

Bilbo nodded dumbly, not trusting himself to speak for fear of more surprise reappearances from digested food he’d rather not see unless flushed down a toilet bowl.

Ori went ahead and asked around their colleagues, most of whom shook their heads to his question. Bilbo felt a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach as he sat down at his table, Bofur was already gone, near the bar where he was adding more to the raucous of merry men getting happily and blissfully drunk on a Monday night.

Bilbo turned his attention to finding Ori, in a sea of unfamiliar places and dim light which made it slightly harder to discern the numerous faces in the bar. His friend seemed to be talking to someone; his enthusiastic nod hinted that he had found someone to accompany Bilbo home but who it was, Bilbo couldn’t tell, for the person was blocked by a beam.

 

Bilbo had to wave his hand in front of his face to check that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him as the person Ori was leading towards their table came to be none other than

“Thorin, condemn you! Sure took your time swinging by tonight!” Gandalf greeted the general manager like an old friend, probably is by the way his arm was wrapped loosely his waist.

Bilbo pretended to be distracted by the muted TV screen and reading the useless and random facts it flashed.

“So this is my damsel in distress tonight?”

Bilbo balled his hands into fists and convinced himself that no, it’s not the cool drawl of his superiors words that reminded him very much like thick honey that was causing another blush to rise up his cheeks.

Ori gave Bilbo a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and helped gathered his things into his satchel.

“That’s our Disney heroine alright; I think we’d better have him in a cab made of metal instead of pumpkin before midnight.” And the accidental fairy godmother sent the two of them off with a wink.

 

-

 

They ride home passed by without much hiccup, unless you count that singular incident where Bilbo accidentally threw up all over Thorin’s shoes as they got out of the cab an absolute disaster.

In a better state of mind, Bilbo would have apologized profusely but speaking of a better state of mind, he wouldn’t be splashing vom on his superior’s expensive leather shoes would he?

Thorin had strong, muscly arms, Bilbo commented silently, suppressing the fit of giggles that threatened to make the situation more awkward than it already was. And it was these pair or arms, may the Lord bless them, which propped Bilbo up and held him steady as they bumbled around to Bilbo’s apartment.

“No it’s not this, mine’s the one up ahead,” Bilbo mumbled in slight confusion, mind struggling to recall the fact that he _didn’t_ inform Thorin where he stayed and yet they were on the correct floor, if not at the wrong door.  

“Oh I just thought I’d bring you back to my apartment first to freshen up a little, pardon me but these shoes aren’t very comfortable to be in at the moment,” Thorin explained softly, his breath ghosting past Bilbo and made his knees buckle _just so._

“No, no no, you don’t really have to trouble yourself, you can just drop me at- wait just a minute is this apartment number thirteen, on the sixth level?!” Bilbo nearly jumped out of his skin, sobering up a little at the impossible possibility and detached himself from Thorin’s support, whirring around to take in the familiar sight of his potted plants hanging above the parapets.

“That’s mine,” he pointed dumbly, looking at Thorin and back to his lovely blooming orchids.

“Oh,” was the flabbergasted monosyllable that shaped Thorin’s pink lips into an attractive ‘o’.

“Howdy neighbor, care for a cup of tea?” Bilbo suggested sheepishly, digging his apartment keys from his satchel and swinging the door open. His heart beat faster as Thorin gingerly took his shoes off at the gate and inched past Bilbo, their hips grazing past each other as Thorin _entered_ Bilbo-

_‘s apartment, Christ_ , he noted, mentally scolding himself for that innuendo.

 

All the throwing up had cleared most of the alcohol in Bilbo’s system and he was able to pour scalding hot water into two mugs without landing himself a trip to the ER.

As conflicting schedules would have for them, Bilbo would always leave for his classes at times when Thorin had already left for work, since Rivendell was further away than the city, and Bilbo mostly starting his morning classes at eight compared to Thorin’s ten am. Weekends were out of the question as Thorin would spend it at his Dad’s house in Laketown, nearly an hour’s away via train. So even though Bilbo had been living in Dale for nearly 2 years, Thorin’s work schedules and OTs compared to a student’s fixed timetable had cleverly prevented them from meeting each other,

Until tonight.

The two sipped their teas in silence, marveling at their revelation.

“I’ve always wanted to meet the neighbor with the green thumb,” Thorin smiled into his mug, a fond look on his face. Bilbo swallowed hard, not even bothering to fight back the blush this time.

“Well, here he is, in the flesh,” Bilbo squeaked awkwardly, suddenly wishing that he had inherited the wittier and flirtatious nature of his mother rather than the stoic, minimal small talk conversationalist like his father was.

“Thank goodness you aren’t a hermit who’s eighty and secretly owns a meth lab,” Thorin replied effortlessly, charisma rolling of him and hitting Bilbo like tsunami waves from across his modest coffee table.

“Pretty sure I sound like one if you closed your eyes and imagined hard enough,” Bilbo chuckled dryly, wringing his mug in his hands and trying not to make a bigger fool of himself. Thorin must be those people who laughed at everything when they’re tipsy because the outburst of mirth sounded like Bilbo had told him one of the funniest jokes on earth and that made the younger man slightly more comfortable and made conversation between them slightly better.

 

-

 

Thorin had settled into his bed when his phone vibrated twice, shortly.

With a small grunt he reached out for his device on the night stand and checked his notifs, eyes squinting at the sudden glare of light.

_‘How did it go?’_ read Ori’s text message.

He had to suppress a wolfish grin unbecoming of someone his age and more suited for a child at least 3 times younger than him.

_‘For the last time, good night, Ori.’_

_‘Maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow morning,;_ Thorin sent as an afterthought.

Thorin shut his phone off and tossed it to the side quickly before he could be bombarded by Ori’s texts messages, which would probably blow his phone’s notifications tomorrow morning.  

It seemed he was incapable of holding back that grin after all, thoughts meandering to the night’s events and how it had unfurled.

And with that, Thorin Durin drifted into a blissful slumber, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

**Author's Note:**

> So it's finally out! Fluffy office AU inspired by thorinkingoferebor's headcanons, lovely of her to have me borrow some of her ideas to start writing this. Hoped it was to your liking, until the next chapter!


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